


Breaking a Hero

by CoffeeandTears



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeandTears/pseuds/CoffeeandTears
Summary: The problem isn't that the hero is invincible. He's only Hylian, barely a man.No, the problem has never been a question of the Heroes mortality, but of Ganon's faith in his own army. The trust he lay in the ability of creatures created from his own darkness to capture and destroy Hylia's champion.The problem has always been sending a monster to do a Gerudo's job.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Testing the waters here. Been a while since I’ve written any fanfiction and debating getting back in the game. Depending response I will either return to the rock from which I crawled or come out and splash around for a bit. Your call. 
> 
> This story is not intended for the easily triggered or faint of heart. If you think you may be bothered by something of this nature you may want to leave now. I have no intention of holding anything back. You've been warned. 
> 
> Please also note that this work is a collaborative piece with the entire plot and premise having been co-created with another author who is not yet on this website. Thank you my friend for letting me write this story of ours out. ♡
> 
> Not beta read.
> 
> I own nothing.

The sound of heavy hooves nearly echoed through the quiet of the abandoned streets. The twilight shrouded village unaware of its newcomer. 

Face covered by the low hanging hood of his billowing cloak, the stranger rode a stallion nearly twice the size of any other through the curling streets of the quiet village. The beast walked with ease through the howling winds, the rising storm giving no fright to the stallion as it followed them like a summon.

He dismounted and pat a leather clad hand along the beast’s flank. The horse trotted off, finding a place for itself to stand out of the rising winds and impending rain but close enough to hear his master’s call.

Grabbing hold the thick iron handle of the village’s only inn the stranger pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside, the fierce wind slamming it shut behind him.

Only one face turned at the sound of the noise, “Good evening!” an old man chirped from behind the Inn’s counter, “Are you looking for something to eat? Perhaps a place to sleep?”

“Neither.” The shadow answered, he scanned the room, searching the half visible faces of the Inn’s dinning patrons.

“Maybe a drink then?” The innkeeper offered instead. “I have a cider fresh from the cellar that’ll make your toes curl.”

“Is that so?” Attention pulled back from his search to the inn’s master the shadow approached, and the innkeeper took the motion as his sign to pour half a pint.

The stranger stopped before the counter, eyes the color of amber meeting the old mans grey. He was taller then most Hylian’s, barrel chested with wide set shoulders and hard muscle. He carried himself like a man made of power. A man with purpose beyond the Goddess’s will. “I guarantee it.” He preened.

Taking the offered cup in hand he scented the heady cider, the defined notes of sweet apple and spice tickling his nose before sampling, “It’s tart.”

“Like I said,” the old man grinned, “it’ll curl your toes.”

With a hum of approval, the man took another swallow of the offered drink and set several rupees on the Inn’s old scored counter. It was more then enough for the drink, more then enough for ten. The old man took the offered treasure without counting it, quickly tucking his new bounty safe out of sight. “Is there anything else I might offer you?” He asked with greedy hope.

“A storm is coming,” The traveler began, his voice like leather and smoke, “it will force a young man who rides this way to seek shelter. When he does,” piercing amber eyes gleamed beneath the riders hood, a small glass vile filled with gorish liquid placed where the rupees once were, “poison him with this.”

The old man stared, trepidation creeping into his face. “You want me to poison someone? I can’t-”

“Do it or I’ll burn this little village to the ground.”

TBC


	2. Escape The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link seeks shelter to escape the storm. He gets more then he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. I have been having more fun writing it then I thought I would. It's been a long time since I've poured any amount of time into writing and I wanted something mindless and easy to start off with. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and enjoy and an even bigger thank you to those who took a moment to leave me a comment or kudo and encourage this little fic to be something bigger. <3
> 
> Credit has to be shared for this story, though they do not have an account yet and would prefer not have any real names listed so I will just state that I have a co-author for this story who is feeding me ideas that I am writing and enjoying. 
> 
> Lastly, I own nothing. 
> 
> Not beta read.

Night had come and with darkness had risen a storm unlike any the kingdom had ever seen before. Winds like a hurricane coming down from the mountains, bringing with them a rain that threatened to flood. Travellers from near and far sought shelter wherever it could be taken and those lucky found a place at the Inn.

Link was no exception to the frantic search for refuge from the storm. Soaked from heavy rains and chilled by howling winds the hero hurried toward the closest point of shelter, a small village inn just beyond Hyrule Fields. “You’re in luck,” An old man called to him as the rushing wind slammed the door shut behind him, rattling the scattered few paintings on the wall with threat of falling. He looked up through soaking blond hair to the Hylian standing warm and dry behind the Inn’s check-in desk. Judging by the gathered patrons in the modest main room it doubled as a bar, “I happen to have one room left.” Hands gnarled with hard work and age searched a drawer Link could not see from his vantage and placed a heavy looking iron key on the counter. He picked up the key with a sopping gloved hand. “It’s small,” the innkeeper warned, “but there’s a fireplace you can dry your tunic near and a bed with coco down blankets.”

He touched his chin below his mouth and moved his hand away from his body, _Thank you_. He said without words, one of the few signs that most Hylians recognized. Not all, but enough. He leaves fifty rupees in wake of the key and turns toward the stairs. The crowd is making good use of the main floor as a tavern. At a quick glance the majority appear to be travelers like himself; cold, wet and happy to be out of the storm. There are several small tables around the room as well as a few long bench tables close to the wall. The smaller tables near the fire are filled, each seating as many patrons as can share to keep close to the fire, indulging in stew and mead.

No doubt the small gathering will stay until their tunics dry and their bellies are filled. It’s a nice enough thought, joining the crowed of the inn for food and mirth during the height of the storm, but he just couldn’t bring himself to eat while soaked and cold. The idea of sitting in the main room of the Inn dripping wet was less then enticing. Even with the smell of fresh baked bread and savory meat wafting from the kitchen.

He would eat later, he promised himself, once he’d had a chance to warm his bones and his tunic was a little less wet he would go to the main room and search for food. If not, if the kitchen closed before he felt he was ready to join the crowed, then he would go in the morning.

Satisfied with his plan, simple as it was, Link climbed the steps leading away from the murmuring main room toward the upper level lined with sleeping quarters. He was tired. Desperate for a good night sleep. In a race against time he had been flying from one end of Hyrule to the other and this storm was his first excuse in a week to take a night off. He smiled a little at the misfortune forced upon him. He would enjoy the sweet reprieve while it lasted.

Icy wind filled the hearth warmed inn as the angry wind howled through the lodge door, another stranded traveler seeking safety and heat entering her door to have it slam with the force of the storm behind them.

Link paused his ascent, a sudden wave of guilt gnawing at his gut as he hears the heavy footsteps of the new patron approaching the desk. He already knows there are no room left for this traveler to buy, the old man will most likely be forced to turn the guest away. “If it’s shelter you seek I’ve no rooms left to give. I’ve sold my last bed not a moment ago.” The innkeeper must have motioned to him while turning the new arrival away, because Link can suddenly feel him, feel his focus on him as sure as a bee sting.

A hero for the people. That was what he was, a title he had never asked for but been given all the same. Always willing to see the needs of others before his own, he would sooner see himself back in the fury of the storm than risk the life of an innocent. He felt the weight of that key in his hand once more, thought of the soft bed and private fireplace. It was a good thought, a nice dream. He let it go, steeling himself to once again brave the storm and turned to return his key to the innkeeper.

“What about a chair by the fire?” The newcomer, a man, asks instead. There’s an accent he doesn’t recognize in the masculine notes of the man’s voice, one that makes him think of leather and smoke., “Could you manage that for the night?” The man, Link also notes, is not at all looking at him. The eyes he had felt conjured by a mind made tired with too much travel and not enough rest.

A moment of silence stands as the innkeeper considers this request, “I suppose I could allow it, given the storm.” He motions toward the endless creaking of the door, the howling wind shaking it’s heavy weight within it’s frame.

Link felt the solid weight of the key in the palm of his hand, thought again of the fire waiting for him in the room, bed he could stretch his soar bones on. How long has it been since he’d last seen a proper bed? A frivolous expense he so seldom indulged…one he could give up for the night to instead take the bartered for chair.

 _“Selfish.”_ He thought, and continued up the creaking stairs, once more unable to shake the feeling of eyes on his back.

He found his room without difficulty, the number three half visible with pealing paint on his rented door. It matched the crooked Hylian number scratched onto the key. He unlocked the door and stepped into a room only slightly larger then Link had expected given the innkeepers fair warning. It wasn’t big by any means; but comparted to a few of the other rooms he had stayed in during his time as a traveller, it wasn’t bad. A bed against the wall, a chair in the corner and a fireplace across from the bed. These three furnishings made up the entirety of the room and Link could reach any of them within two paces of each other.

Still, it wasn’t outside in the rain.

Closing the door and securing the simple latch lock by the handle Link turns his attention to the private hearth and three logs of wood that lay waiting there with a piece of flint available at their base. He was grateful for the innkeeper’s foresight. Striking the flint with expert ease he watched the resulting sparks dance along a piece of kindling until a tiny ember caught and from it’s glowing light grew the first flame. He fanned it, coaxing the small warmth to greater life until it took, swallowing the wooden logs that rest there.

Link made a sound of appreciation as heat bloomed across his face and light danced to fill the room. It was exactly what he needed, and he found the guilt that had been pegging him melted away as he shed his gloves to warm bone chilled hands by the heady warmth.

Precious moments passed and soon Link found himself once more able to feel the tips of his fingers. He flexed them slowly, testing the joints before moving his attention to tunic and pants, boots and hat, stripping himself down to nothing and laying each article with care along the hearths face to warm and dry by morning. In the chair he leaned the Master Sword. He would have set it by the bed if not for a window above it.

Paranoid, but that was what kept him alive.

He tested the window, a solid pull on the shutters the direction an intruder might proceed if they were so inclined to climb in such harsh conditions. It didn’t budge, the hinges holding the wood in place relatively new and the thick board across their front holding them steady against a beating of wind. He would have little to worry about an intrusion from there. Next was the door. He better examined the simple latch that acted as a second lock for privacy. If anyone wanted to come in there would be little done to keep them from barging through. The knob was the real lock for the small room and the simple lock would be easy for anyone to pick if they had a pin and some patience. The latch, Link was sure, could be torn from the wall with one solid push or two. More a false sense of security then any real semblance of safety.

Still, he was as secure as he was going to be. Link declared the room as safe enough and finally allowed himself to relax. No one would be climbing through his window on a night like tonight and if someone were to try and pry open his door he would surly wake up. It’s enough to have him falling back on the simple straw bed and pulling the feather down blanked around his shoulders. It’s thinner then the innkeeper had promised it would be, but with the warmth of the fire quickly filling the room the simple bedding is more then enough. He breaths a sigh against the oncoming threat of sleep, his eyes already growing heavy as he turns his gaze toward the fire and watches the dance of red and yellow over wood.

It was pretty, pretty and deadly.

Just like him.

He gave a little smile. No one said the Hylia’s Champion wasn’t a little bit vein. 

A knock at the door jars him from frolicsome thoughts, his tired mind at once alert as he grabbed his tunic and sword and went for the door. Another hard knock sounds before he finishes pulling the sticky damp tunic back overhead. “Traveller? It’s the Innkeeper.” Link recognized the old man’s voice, a small relief filling him at the knowledge of his visitor, “I’ve brought you some stew.” He hesitates a moment, voice unsure, “It comes with the room.” He finishes. When he still takes a moment to answer the door, settling his tunic in place enough to cover his indecency, the old man is calling to him once more, “Traveller?” Link opened the door before he could pound his fist for a third time. The old man seemed almost startled at Link’s sudden arrival on the other side of the wood. He supposed most guests would have called something out in return instead of throwing the door open without warning. Most people could talk.

Awkward startle turning to awkward smile, the innkeeper pushed a steaming bowl of stew into Link’s hands. He seemed almost hesitant as he looked the tired hero up and down. Link might have worried he was poking out if he hadn’t been so careful before opening the door. “You look like you were sleeping, sorry about that.” He apologized, indicating Link’s state of person. He couldn’t remember dozing off but given the state of damp his tunic had reached he must have dozed for at least a few hours.

“A few of the men have turned the evening into a bit of a party I’m afraid. I can’t seem to settle them down, you should come down and join us. Not too many things to celebrate these days.” Link didn’t have to listen hard to hear the muffle of voices singing to the tune of flutes and lutes carrying up from the main room.

He looked down at his tunic still clinging and uncomfortable against his skin. “Everyone’s wet downstairs,” the innkeeper continued, “But the fire is much bigger, and the company is pleasant.” He watched the small aging figure turn and hobble back toward the stairs. “The choice is yours of course, but you won’t have quite for sleeping until they’re done.”

He was a nice old man, Link decided, if a little awkward. He closed his eyes and smelled the stew that had been thrust into his hands. It smelt good, rich with herbs and spices and thick with chunks of heaty root vegetables and meat. This was probably his way of making it up to anyone who had come in after Link and had to settle for a place it the main room if they wanted any shelter from the storm…like the man he’d left to sleep downstairs.

A fresh bubble of guilt swelled in his chest. _Knight for the people_. A small voice sounded in the back of his mind. Honestly Link was his own worst critic.

With a half-hearted sigh of resignation, he closed the door behind him and turned the key, taking his dinner downstairs.

Not halfway down the steps Link could see how lively the night had become. There was a couple dancing on the center most table, the pair holding hands and spinning as if it were a stage. To the side a small band of three played old bar songs, the trio standing close to the fire to dry their tunics and trousers while they preformed. The rest of the room seem to be eating supper or playing the spoons and everyone seemed to be in much higher spirits then when he’d first arrived. It was enough to confirm that he had dozed while watching the firelight dancing, the evening much farther along then it had been upon his arrival. 

He finds a seat at an empty table farthest from the warming flames but with the best view of everyone enjoying their night and sits back to watch the couple dance. He supposes it’s better then watching the fire alone in his room, as warm and dry and restful as that had been and finally digs into his stew.

It was delicious, the broth was rich and thick with nutty seasoning and large chunks of deer, swift carrot and hearty radish.

“Glad you could join us.” A voice like smoke came from behind. “I believe you were the only one who had chosen sleep over food.” Link glanced over his shoulder to the stranger who’d chosen to join him. It was the man in the hooded cloak, the one he was sure had watched him claim the last room. He didn’t seem angry, which Link found came with a touch of relief.

Indicating an empty seat at the bench table Link welcomed the stranger to join him with a nod and a smile. The man took it, seating himself by Link’s side as though the table were his own. He was large for a Hylian, both in build and height. Truly a man from lands farther then Link had traveled.

He lifted his spoon, letting a chunk of root vegetable plop into his bowl as emphasis to the stranger who kept his face shrouded by the heavy hood of his cloak. Some people were private. Some damaged and shy. He imagined this obvious warrior simply preferred to keep to himself…except it would seem, where Link was concerned. The man looked to him, hood angled to see that Link had indicated his meal. “Is it good?” He asked.

Link nodded, scooping another well seasoned spoonful into his mouth. He used his spoon as a pointer toward the traveler as he chewed. “No, I’m not hungry.” He answered, following Link’s silent lead of conversation with ease. It wasn’t sign, Link knew very few Hylians who knew the old language of hands and even less on the outskirts of the kingdom. He didn’t image the traveler would know what he actioned if he tried to make a more proper conversation. Instead he nodded in retort and returned to his meal, the stranger content to sit in silence as Link enjoyed his dinner and the pair listened to increasingly drunken music from the trio at the front.

It wasn’t until Link scrapped the bottom of his bowl, full and sleepy, swallowing down the last flavorful bite with a renewed resolve to crawl beneath the waiting blankets of his bed and sleep until morning that the stranger spoke again.  

“How very surprising.” The man said, watching Link as he dropped his spoon into his bowl and rose from the table to make his farewell. At once the room swam, the floor shifting beneath suddenly unsteady feet. Link stumbled, watching walls that moved like waves as he tried to grab the tables edge and catch himself, “I hadn’t thought Gerudo poison could blend so well with venison.”

His fingers, suddenly numb, did noting to grip the tables surface, slipping over age worn wood, he fell. He hit the floor with dead weight, his limbs suddenly like rock. The room continued to spin, tilting and shifting around him as he tried to steady himself, clutch the scored wood beneath him.

He needed to move.

With a grunt he commended his limbs to move, willed his sluggish, jellied limbs to lift his body from the floor. They refused to comply, movements sluggish and weak as he tried to drag himself from floor. He needed an anchor, something to steady himself against the rocking. He touched the wood of a chair leg, fingers wrapping around the solid spoke and hoped it was enough. He tried to pull, tried to drag his weight with shaking arms away from the danger looming above him.

“Is everything okay?” Someone asked, another patron of the inn, someone innocent and well meaning. Someone with no idea of the absolute danger he was in.

He wished he could talk, form words and call for help. Instead he groaned, the sound coming out slurred, drunk and desperate.

“Too much to drink.” The voice like smoke explained.

Breath ragged, movements jerky, Link tried once more to crawl away, lift his body and move on hands and knees. He didn't make it an inch.

A hand like a vise took him by the arm and with the effort one might give tearing a bread roll dragged Link to his feet. He carried his weight without effort, holding Link up as he tried and failed to support himself on weakening legs. He groans again, head beginning to lull from side to side. He shakes his head, a weak effort to keep awake and regrets the motion at once. The room is spinning, flying around and away from him as his vision begins to dance. He’s so tired, so desperately tired. He needs to stay awake. He needs to fight the drug, fight the sleep. “A moment of fresh air should do him good.”

It takes Link a moment for the words to register, for what the man is saying to settle in his mind. He’s going to take Link outside. He’s going to carry him out into the storm where no one will find him. He tries to grab the arm that holds him, fight the grip that keeps him from the ground and finds he can’t feel his fingers. The man moves him without effort, shifts him to carry like a bride in his strong arms, walking him through the crowed of singing faces without question. They think nothing is wrong. He can’t think, can’t focus his thoughts on what to do as he tries to keep his vision still, fights to keep from passing out. It’s with everything he has left in him that Link makes a fist and aims for the cloaked mans face. The effort is little more then irritating push against the assailant’s jaw. “Keep fighting.” He whispers, voice so low Link almost doesn’t hear the words hissed into his pointed ear, “I would hate for you to make this easy.”

Someone is getting the door for them, helping him kidnap Link without knowing, helping him carry him out into the heavy rain and high winds of the stormy night. If he takes him no one will follow. No hunter will find his tracks, no dog will trace his scent. No one will find where he’s been taken.

Its his last thought as the wind throws off the mans dark hood and he is met with an image of fire red hair and desert dark skin. He’s only seen him once, a stolen glance in passing and never has he heard him speak. Link can’t help from feeling foolish even as the last tendrils of consciousness uncurl from his mind. How could he have missed it?

_Ganon…_

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Hurrah! The last of the setup! Now we can let the story begin~<3
> 
> Your kudos are roasting marshmallows over the fire, your comments throwing chunks of stew and dancing on the table tops. 
> 
> The author is bedridden and terrorizing Link to pass the time. <3


	3. Monsters in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns what it means to be trapped in a dungeon with no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings~<3
> 
> Sorry for the much longer than intended wait. I'm afraid I was away on vacation to an area without any reception. Also I keep re-reading this chapter and trying to add, change, or fix things. So after too many adjustments (most likely with loads of room for plenty more) I have decided to post the chapter as is. Hopefully everyone enjoys the continued build-up. I promise some horrible things are coming very soon. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> Not beta read.

Link drifted in and out of consciousness like waves on the sea. Lucidness peaking for brief moments like the crest of a wave before crashing back into the deep to tumble in the dark. It created a flip book of moments captured and Link found it challenging to make sense of it all.

A man calls out over the wind, an order commanded to his horse. The beast rears up, crying out over the storm, and there’s a feeling of pressure on his back. A hand? The rider is holding him in place, keeping him from falling. He’s over his lap, thick muscled thighs beneath his stomach. It briefly occurs to him that the rider’s hand is steadying him, keeping him from falling off or escaping.

At one-point Link manages to lift his head and stare out over the blurry shifting landscape that speeds past him. He fights to sort the moving scenery around him into something half familiar, but as they race toward an unfamiliar horizon, even in his state of disorient Link realizes that he has no idea where he is. He recognizes nothing...not the endless smooth hills and strange trident trees or the fading cliffside disappearing behind them into the distance. Wherever he is being taken it is a land he has not set foot in before.

He wakes next to the feeling of movement, the hand on his back rubbing slow soothing circles along the small of his spine. It makes Link groan, shift in protest to the almost affectionate gesture. The movement stops, but only to push him down and keep him in place. There is little Link can do to resists the pressure and after a moment the slow slide of leather glove against him begins again. “ _Almost there…_ ” The man above him whispers, low and close, breath hot against his ear. It makes the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand and a knot curl in the pit of his stomach.

_No…_

When Link wakes again it is to the soft sound of shuffling, meaty footsteps dragging over stone, sloppy and uneven. The noises are alarming enough without the increased disorientation of waking to the steady stillness of no longer being on that damned horse. But it wasn’t just the steady ground that it was paired with, to join the disturbing footfalls was the sound of thick muffled breathing, even breath deep and wet and rattled and all too close.

Link blinked himself awake, made his tired eyes open and tried to chase the disorientation away. It didn’t work. There was nothing for him to focus on in the dark, and it was dark. More then dark, it was black.

No stream of light tricked through poorly boarded windows or the cracks of a door. Wherever he was, it was deep enough below the surface that no sun would be him here. He blinked his eyes a few more times and tried to see something among the darkness that surrounded him. It was almost enough to make him wonder if he’d gone blind.

He lets his eyes drift shut again and instead focuses on breathing. Slowly taking one deep breath, bringing the cold musty air into his lungs and counting as he let it out again. It helps him wake, the chill filling his chest and making him more alert, chasing away the lingering effects of the drug to make him want to sleep.

The room, he notes, smells like death.

The cloying scent of stale decaying flesh and mildew linger in his nose, its strong enough to leave a taste on the back of his tongue, bitter and potent. He gages. A dungeon then. It isn’t anything he hadn’t expected. Not where Ganon was concerned. The Gerudo King most likely planned to leave Link here until he died, let him starve in the cold and dark, never to see the light of day again.

No. That would never satisfy the King of Evil. He would need more, need to see Link as he suffered, waste away to nothing. Which meant that there would be visits and with every visit the potential to turn the tables. In the mean time Link would have to focus his energies on keeping himself alive and in fighting condition; which brought his attention to other details.

With his newfound consciousness Link was becoming increasingly aware of pain in his wrists and shoulders. A deep ache that was growing to burn the more he focused on his wellbeing and what might be wrong.

It wasn’t a good sign. He must have been hanging there a few hours for the pain to be this sever. The muscles strained from holding his dead weight.

Slowly Link stood and the response was immediate, a pain like fire screaming joints to make his teeth grind. He took one deep breath and then another and barred the pain until the initial shock of movement and relief faded to tender throbbing. He was going to be sore for days after this, there was no denying that. Gingerly, he rolled his shoulders and wrists encouraging blood flow and checking for damage.

He hurt but nothing appeared to be permanently damaged. Yet. He needed to get down. The longer he stayed locked up in a dungeon, strung against a cold damp wall, the faster he was going to deteriorate.

He tested the strength of his chains, the distance they would allow him from the wall. The bindings were solid, fixed tight against the stone that held him. Ganon had taken extra care when locking him away. He was being cautious.

It should have been expected when the Gerudo King had venture forth and collect Link himself. Personally overseeing his poisoning, capture and caging. The methodical care he was taking toward Link when he had only ever sent his minions to deal with the hero before was more then a little unnerving. It was disturbing.

As were the position of his chains. Their length was short, only a few inches allowed from the wall for Link to move. They kept him spread. He feet shoulder width apart and arms up and out. He was as vulnerable Ganon could make him.

Especially given the humiliating sensation of cold stone against his ass. His tunic had ridden up with his shuffling and with it the painful reminder that he had decided to venture to the main floor of the inn dressed in nothing but his tunic and sword. A legendary sword, he reminded himself, he was now missing and a tunic that would act as a permanent reminder to wear small clothes and pants before answering the door. Shirtless was better then pantless.

He would have to berate himself for stupid decisions later, after he was free from Ganon and wielding the darkness sealing blade, until then he needed to keep focus. Link turned his attention back to the room. He had hoped that with a little time his eyes might have adjust to the darkness and he would see outlines and hints of objects or other life within the dungeon. As it was all he could see was black. If he got lose, no, _when_ he got lose, he would need to find his way out by touch and sound. He wasn’t looking forward to such as he continued to listen to the wet rattled breathing of whatever else was trapped below the surface with him. He hoped they were rats, though the likelihood of the slow shuffling being one of the quick rodents scurrying over stone in search of decaying flesh or abandoned bread was unlikely. This was something or someone else.

He hoped it was a monster. Monsters were easy. He found their weakness, he took them out. A civilian meant trying to break both himself and an innocent out of the castle alive. The later was never an easy feat.

With no way to call out to the other occupants of the dungeon and no way of knowing if they were in people or creatures, Link turned his attention to the chains that bound him. He wouldn’t be pulling them free. Even if Ganon hadn’t made the extra effort of replacing the bolts that held them Link’s limbs were stretched too far to properly pull the restraints from their points. Any attempts to tear the metal from the wall would only end in wasted energy. Which only left one more option.

He would have to dislocate his thumbs.

Hylia…just the thought of popping the joint and _trying_ to rip it through the thick manacle…it was going to hurt. A lot.

Inwardly groaning Link felt for the fat little digit on his on his hand, sliding his index finger over the first knuckle and down to the second. He grits his teeth, keeping the finger in place he curled the rest of his fist tight around the digit and squeezed. He felt it pulling, the joint screaming as muscle and tendon pulled to keep bone in place, teeth clenched his gave one final squeeze and it popped. The bone letting go to leave the digit flopping to the side. He silently cursed, taking several deep breaths before curling his hand into a cone and beginning the possibly futile effort of squeezing it through the cuff.

His thumb burned. The joint felt like fire as he tried for force the injured digit through the tight cuff. He could feel his skin peeling as he pulled against the awkward angle of the restraint and worked to force it through.

Half an inch worked free Link froze. He heard a door. It was close, a short hallway walk perhaps. The squeal of hinges giving entry and with them a sudden light bleed into the room.

It let him see them. The creatures, the _things,_ Link was locked away with as they hurried from the light.

He hasn’t seen monsters like these before. Bodies like stone held together with leathery skin dried so taught it was torn over joints. He could see peeks of muscle and sinew through the peeling gaping flesh…and their mouths, teeth bared where lips should have hidden them, the skin looked chewed…as though they’d been eaten.

Worst of all perhaps were their eyes…pupils blown wide and filled with the milky haze. They had been watching him in the darkness. They were looking at him even as they pulled back deeper into the shadows…they were watching...and they were hungry.

He jerked the chains that held him without thinking.

The only thing standing between him and those teeth were the bars of his cage.

Footsteps brought the protective light closer to his cell. He closed his eyes against the brightness, the sudden light painful after so long in the dark. “Did you sleep well hero?” He squinted, let his eyes adjust.

_Ganon_. He straightened his back against the cold wall, squaring his shoulders to face his enemy. He may hold the upper hand, but Link was far from surrender.

“Are you looking for a fight?” The Gerudo king asked, securering the torch in a sconce and pulling a key from his belt. He unlocked the heavy cell door and stepped inside, precise steps caring him to just a foot away from the hero in question.

One foot. It was close enough for Link to feel the larger mans breath move the stagnant air of his cell. So close to the monster haunting Hyrule and he couldn’t so much as kick him like a child.

“You won’t be winning any battled down here boy.” The comment confused Link for a moment before he realized that he must have seen his struggle against the chains, his reaction upon seeing those things. He’d chosen to view Link’s behaviour as rebellion instead of fear. Link would admit it was better to be thought rebellious then Ganon know Link’s discomforts.

It was then Link noticed the plate Ganon had brought into the cell with him. It made him suddenly aware of exactly how hungry he was. It was a small plate featuring simple fair. Bread, some kind of berry Link hadn’t had before and a few nuts. “Hungry?” Link looked at the plate and back to Ganon. The man wasn’t about to release his chains so he could eat. Which meant this was a battle of pride.

Was Link hungry enough to eat from Ganon’s hand?

He picked up a nut, rolling the morsel between gloved fingers before presenting it to Link. He could smell the nut pressed against his lips, it had been roasted, seasoned with something light and herbal. The flesh was sweet when he bit into it, light and still warm from the skillet. Ganon waited watched with cool interest as Link fought the internal battle of pride and need before opening his mouth to accept the next offered morsel.

He grinned, thin and wide. Link’s submission marked him as winner of this battle. A far easier won victory then anticipated. Pleased he selects a berry from the plate to offer next, lifting the ripe sweet treat just in time to feel the nut bounce off his jaw; a wet mark of spit left where the savory bite made impacted. He let the berry fall, dropping it to roll along the dirty packed floor to wipe the smear of spit from his jaw.

Link grit his teeth and waited for the strike.

It didn’t come.

“That was a truly foolish thing to do boy.” He told him, cool amber eyes leveling rebellious blue. “There is no soul in all Hyrule who knows where you are. No one to save the hero and no one to save Hyrule.”

The plate clatters to the floor, berries and nuts bounding to the corners of the room. “No one is permitted entry to this dungeon but myself,” He tells him and Link’s stomach sinks.

No change of guard. No easy monsters to disarm or distract.

Just Ganon.

“Try not to die before I return.”

He took the torch with him as he left, the threads of light disappearing down the short corridor with his receding footsteps.

As the last of the torch light disappeared beyond his reach movement began in the darkest corners of the dungeon, shadows moving forward, their long spindly arms reaching through bars of his cell, maws opening in search of his flesh with their chewed away lips and eyes blown wide by an eternity trapped in the darkness.

They reached for him, fingers grasping for his legs, for his face. Whatever they could reach. Link pushed himself back against the wall staring with wide eyes into the milky depths of the creatures.

His heart pounded. Lost and alone with no weapon and no plan of escape, surrounded by monsters the likes of which he has never faced before.

The door opened, the same sharp squeal of hinges, the same sound that had brought the light now taking it away.

He swallowed down his growing fears as the door closed and the lingering threads of light faded to nothing.

Left once more to the cold of his cell and dark of the dungeon, Link was once again alone with the eerie sounds of shuffled movement and wet breathing. Only now he knows what company is kept.

He was sure he could still see milky eyes staring at him in the dark.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are looking for flame throwers, your comments are trying to lift the key.


	4. Worse Things Then Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns that there are some things worse then death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slow ass updater but at least I update. 
> 
> Work has been crazy lately. Our manager quit and I've been pulling some ludicrous shifts to make up for it. Not a great excuse but it's the one I'm going to give. 
> 
> Just a heads up this chapter is a little grotesque. This will not be a normal thing for the story, it's just how this chapter is going because he's in a dungeon and it makes sense. If you want to skip this chapter I will try to remember to write a sort of short summery for squeamish readers at the beginning of the next chapter so you can just ignore this one and jump into what you came here for. Otherwise I recommend reading this as it really sets the tone for where Link is at the end of this chapter and how he got there. 
> 
> Again, sorry for the long ass wait, I'll try to be faster with the next update (just hired a new manager, currently training them so fingers crossed for a little more free time). 
> 
> Please enjoy. 
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not beta read. If you wanna beta read please contact me I am always open to editing and better grammar. I know mine sucks.

One of the reasons Link had always done well as a warrior is his unnatural tolerance for pain. Most people Link has known lack the ability to stand a breath away from death and still pick up their sword and fight. Goddesses know he’s long since lost count of the number of battles he’s fought and won with broken bones and oozing wounds. He suspects that it’s his ability to ignore screaming nerves and get back up to fight with nothing but sheer determination, even when all seems to be lost, that allows him to wield the Master Sword.

It’s that determination he uses now.

Light gone and only company the creatures lurking outside his cell with wet rattled breath Link knows he can’t let himself sit still and wait for the opportunity to escape to present itself. Not with Ganon holding the only key and intent on seeing to Link personally for his foreseeable incarceration. The Gerudo King will not be as easy to fool as his followers.

Link will have to make his own opportunity, force fate and chance to work in his favor.

But first…

He bites back a groan as an ache like a knife reminds him that he won’t need to worry about any attempts to escape if he allows himself to become to weak to fight off the monsters. What he needs more then anything is water, but he knows from his short time in the torches light that none is to be found in the tight confines of his cell.

There is, however, food.

The plate and morsels it had contained are scattered over the packed dirt floor of his cell and that was a start.

There was still the problem of reaching it while keeping a safe distance away from the hands groping through the bars of his cell, clawing and desperate.

At least he knew the answer to one of those problems.

The issue Link was having with his hand, why he hadn’t finished his master plan of breaking out of his chains, was the swelling that had ensued after dislocating his thumb. The short period he hadn’t been able to work the limb free during Ganon’s visit enough to let the swelling seal his screaming hand midway and prevent him from slipping out.

He tested the metal loop again now, tugging and feeling for the thickness of his hand against the hole.

Swollen and hot, he could feel each pulse of blood through the constructed extremity.

He cursed silently, grit his teeth he pulled. At first it didn’t budge, nothing but the harsh pull of his wrist against the tension of chain, pain radiating though his arm and bruising digging deeper and deeper into sensitive flesh. A new fear of losing his dominant hand ticked the back of his mind just as fresh blood oozed from the peeling skin. New slick seeped along the crevice of the manacle and with one last pull his hand popped free.

Shaking, Link took a moment for himself to just stand still and breath. This was torture. Ganon hadn’t so much as touched him since binding him in this dungeon and still Link found himself being tortured.

He knew what was next would be worse then the escape. He’d let his thump sit too long, get too swollen and wrenched. This was going to be a new kind of agony. He stretched himself to the side and reached for his other hand, still chained high above him. It nearly unbalanced him, nearly had him slip to be caught with that horrible chain. It would have hurt as much as the dislocation, pulled his tender shoulder more than it was already suffering. _Almost._

Instead he placed his bad hand into his good one and felt for the popped thumb, felt for the angle of the joint it had been pulled from and then he pushed.

His scream was muffled by the fabric of his tunic, face buried in his shoulder and biting down hard on cloth as he relocated thumb and gingerly moved the tortured digit. It felt like fire. The pain searing and radiating through his whole hand with an aching pulse.

He cursed silently and gave himself no time before doing it again, feeling for the same fat digit of his still cuffed hand, making a fist around it and wanting to scream as the thumb popped from bone and pulled his hand out. It goes much faster the second time, painful without the same degree of agony as the first.

Oddly, he notes, it makes it more difficult to stand. His balance thrown by the spread placement of his feet and proximity to the wall. He hadn’t realized how much the cuffs had been assisting in keeping his balance until they were gone.

Link groans as his luck continues to worsen. It’s harder to pop the thumb back in place on this hand, his other already stiff from the first round and paining even as he forces himself to find the bones and grip, push the bones together and wiggle until they grind and pop back in place.

He drops to his knees and more muscles are screaming, his back and legs reminding him they are not use to such treatment.

He lets himself sit still now for several long unmeasured moments, focusing on nothing but his own breathing until the pain dulls to something more manageable and he’s ready to move. Time isn’t nearly as sensitive now that a rest position has been reached. He won’t be crippling himself quite so bad with the ability to sit, awkward as it may be, it was better then waiting for his shoulders to seize completely.

Link shifts and there’s just enough length to the chain to allow Link to sort of spread legged kneel. It isn’t comfortable, but nothing’s been since getting there so he ignores the protest of his knees and instead begins sliding his hands along the floor in search of fallen food. Packed dirt scrapes beneath his finger nails as he looks, feeling for something different, something alien from the course feel of earth beneath his hands. He finds it when his fingers touch something smooth, almost round. He lifts the unknown little piece toward his lips and touches it to his teeth for an experimental chew.

Link winced as teeth ground against unforgiving rock. It’s enough to make to make him cringe, dropping the stone. He finds two more pebbles before his fingers touch something soft. He picks up the hidden treasure and brings it to his lips, touches the delicate flesh against his own and feels the give in the fruit before slipping it into his mouth. A berry. He chews the small bruised fruit and a splash of tart juices spread across his tongue. It barely wets his lips and does nothing to quench his thirst or curb his hunger, but he’s never been so grateful for the thin juices and small flesh as he is in that instance. He spreads his hands along the floor and once again searches for more. When Ganondorf dropped the plat the barriers and nuts had rolled far and wide. There was the very real chance that with how few pieces that had been brought down to begin with, Link might not find anything more then that first lonely berry.

His stomach growls, a reminder of how long its been since his last meal and he keeps searching, hands skimming dirt and rocks for the thing he wants most of all. The bread roll. He’d seen it roll across the floor. It hadn’t flown nearly as far as the others, bouncing close to where the plate had fallen.

Maybe a little closer to the bars, a little farther from the wall…Link stretched his arms farther, pushes his length away from the stone wall still chaining his ankles awkwardly apart and increased the radius of his sweep.

Boney fingers wrap around him and squeezed.

The pain was instant. His bones grind against each other, the pain in his swollen joins shoot through his arm like a lightning strike. A pained cry escapes Link’s lips before he can catch it and the beast, one of those _things_ pulls harder.

His shoulder starts to ache, the muscles burning around the socket and bone as he’s stretched as far as the cuffs around his ankles will allow, the beast wrapping its second hand around his wrist.

He never would have guested from their wasted form the strength hidden beneath their skin. His shoulder screams, twisting, stretching, threatening to pop. He feels nails, no _CLAWS_ digging into his wrist as he’s dragged as far as the chains wrapped around his feet will take him. He fears his arm may be ripped off as he struggles to get away from the thing pulling him along. He can feel thick rivets of blood dripping from wrist, coating the claws that hold him.

Panic and fear wrap like a tight wire ball around his chest. He only has one choice. It could ruin his hand, he may never hold the master sword with it again. But there isn’t time to think of anything else.

He angles his feet like anchors against their cuffs, grips his arm with his other hand and pulls himself back toward the wall with everything he has.

Slicked with blood the beast looses it’s grip, Link’s hand sliding free with a new assortment of deep flesh peeling gashes running from wrist to fingertip.

He pushes himself back against the wall, huddling his hand close against him and tearing lengths of tunic to quickly wrap it in. He needs to save it, he needs to stop the bleeding and bind it tight enough to hope it heals.  

A new sound fills the cell among the silence and rattled breathing, the long messy slurps of tongue. The sound of that thing licking up his blood.

Link feel the blood pumping through his veins turn to ice, a voice like broken glass making every hair on his body stand on end. “ ** _More…_** ”

He hears it speak.

_“ **More…moooooooooooooooore!** ”_

OoOoO

The familiar creek of hinges preludes the light that bleeds the short hallway, the scuttles of skeletons clad in leather hurrying to escape the light. Even this dimness of the torch so far from the cell hurts after so long left in the darkness, and yet he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his tires eyes to meet the owner of the heavy steps that walk the packed dirt hallway to his cell.

Armoured boots stop before his unfocused gaze, beyond the thick metal bars of his cage. He hears the key turning, the sound of metal scraping metal and watches those boots come closer, one steady step followed by another until they stand barely a foot from his person.

He’s tired. Exhaustion evident. He hasn’t slept since nearly losing his hand, hasn’t tried a second time to seek the food scattered in his cage since nearly escaping the creatures deadly grasp. Link sits kneeling, back against the wall. He’s sure he’s dying, starvation and thirst taking their slow tole on his body.

“Quite the mess you’ve made hero.” He can see how deep the gashes go, the edges of wounds hidden beneath blood drenched tunic strips visible along the edges. His hands are purple across the knuckles of his thumbs and meat of his palm, still sore and swollen from their abuse escaping the manacles.

Link wonders if Ganon expects him to say something. He wonders if maybe the Gerudo doesn’t know that the hero of legend is mute.

The imposing figure of the Gerudo King takes a knee, strong fingers grabbing Link by the chin to force tired blue eyes to meet strong amber ones. The rough skin of his fingers is warm against the dungeons cold and smell of horse-riding leathers. It’s the most heat Link has felt since being trapped in this darkness and it takes more effort then he cares to admit not to lean into that warmth and soak as much of it into his skin as he can.  “It suits you.” He smiles, crooked and wide, eyes bright with mirth and something more. “It’s been three days since my last visit boy.”

Three days.

He lets the number sink in. The reality of it, his thumb grazing the skin of his cheek with false affection.

Three days since Link had been taken from Hyrule. Three days since he’d landed a place to die in Ganon’s dungeon. Three days wasting away.

He takes his hand away and Link almost cries out at the loss of warmth. “A long time to go without sustenance.” Instead he watches strong fingers twist the lid from a flask and a small puddle of water pour into his other ungloved hand. He offers it to Link. “Do you know how long the Hylian body can survive without water?”

Link swallows, throat dry, clicking as he resists the temptation placed before him. “The Gerudo have completed extensive studies on the effects of dehydration.” He can smell it, the light scent of moisture. “The tole it takes on the body.” He touches the edge of his hand against Link’s lips, chapped and dry, and tips the pool to touch him. “You must be desperate.”

The feel of it, cool and wet touch against his mouth. He tries to resist, wants to win this battle of wills as he had the first one, but the tip of his tongue pushes past parched lips to taste the cool temptation seemingly without his permission. It could be poison. Something worse, something meant to paralyze him for the creatures lurking in the dungeon, something meant to keep him still and aware. Let him watch as they feast on his prone form, able to do nothing. It could be a thousand evils and yet…

Shame hollows him as he takes Ganon’s hand into his own and laps the water from salted skin, pink tongue darting between fingers to find every last drop until nothing is left.

“I thought as much.” He lifts the flask again, the source of the water and pours more into the palm of his spit slicked hand.

Deft hands pull the flask from Ganon before he can finish pouring, the desperate hero bringing the source of the water to his mouth to drink in great swallows, draining the bottle with desperate chugs. “A poor decision.” It’s the only warning given before Link finds himself bringing it all back up. He chokes, spluttering as water and acid splatter the dirt floor. He shakes, staring at the puddle seeping into the ground and wonders why? Why can’t he keep it down if when he needs it so desperately.

“You haven’t consumed anything for three days.” Ganon explains without prompting, enjoying small display of suffering set before him, “The worst thing you can do is drink water so desperately.”

He’s shaking. Exhaustion. Thirst. Hunger.

“You’re going to die down here Link.” It’s the first time he’s heard Ganon use his name and it draws his full attention away from the tempting puddle to the monster kneeling before him. “Waste away until you turn into one of my _pets_. You’ll crawl the darkened corridors of my dungeon as a monster for the rest of your miserable days.”

He shakes his head. He’d sooner choke on his own tongue then become one of those things. He refuses. If he must die, then it will be on his terms, not Ganon’s. Dungeon or no.

“No?” It isn’t mocking, not as Link'd expected it to be. Demeaning and cynical. No, it’s something else, something closer to…intrigue? “I suppose there is one other option, one that lets you see the light of day.”

He goes still, a sense of danger twisting his still knotted gut as a warm calloused hand returns to him, cups the soft skin of his cheek.  

“Be my concubine.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Your kudos cower in the corner with Link, your comments encourage him that the healthy choice is yes.
> 
> The author naps in a corner because 12 hour shifts are brutal.


	5. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link is given an offer he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead.  
> For anyone who cares to know most of my spare time has been dedicated to helping my family as of late, mostly with moves. Both my mother and my sister, which makes for a fuck ton of stairs. Oh, so very many stairs…  
> Anyway, enough of that, I write when I find time and in most cases that means stealing 10 minutes here and there to try and write a sentence or two in between helping the in-laws with roofing and yard work and moving my mother and sister from one third floor apartment to another.  
> And, of course, I work…so…you known. Life is a bitch.  
> Point is, nothing is forgotten or abandoned.  
> Also, I have not written a sexual scene in AGES. I actually had to go talk with one of my writing buddies for pointers because it's been so long. I promise the next one will be better. I'm getting warmed up.  
> On with the story.  
> A reminder that this is a collaboration with only one author listed.  
> Not beta read.  
> I own stuff, but not Zelda or whatever.

Concubine?

The smile on Ganondorf’s face grew and he ran a calloused thumb in gentle circles along the hero’s cheek. Whatever mortified horror he saw pass through Link’s features, he liked it. He liked it a lot. Enough so that Link could almost make out the faintest hint of swelling in the desert King’s pants. It was an outline that gave clearer perspective to what was being asked.

_Concubine_.

His throat was suddenly too tight, visions of hardened tanned flesh over his own flood his minds eye and he wanted to be sick.

Link knows all too well the touch of those war bloodied hands, the feel of battle calloused skin against his own is not hard to image, not with the slide of his thumb against his cheek now. It’s all to easy to feel the ghosting strength of those hands pushing his knees apart and powerful thighs sliding between his own to…

Hylia…

He would be Ganon’s personal _whore_.

“The choice is yours boy. Will you stay in my dungeon? Let your muscle waste and mind turn to madness?” he pushed a dirt stained strand of blond behind a pointed ear, ran his knuckle along the vulpine curve of his jaw tilted his chin up, made stormy eyes meet him own, “Or will you give yourself to me?”

It wasn’t much of a choice.

If he stayed, well, he was already halfway there. Link was so long without sleep he’d begun to feel the breath of creatures no where near him crawling on his skin, and he was hungry. Hungry enough that the skin of his chapped lips was beginning to taste…good. He shivered at the thought. It was becoming increasing obvious what those creatures were, what they had been.

No, he couldn’t stay in the dungeon. Not and survive. If he wanted any chance of getting out of this alive, any chance of escaping Ganon and saving Hyrule from the corruption that was falling in his absence, then there was only one option available to him.

He swallowed his pride and turned into the touch.

Link watched amber eyes dilate at once, blowing wide at the sight of Hylia’s Champion’s surrender.

“Good boy.” He purred, the praise carving a hole into Link’s chest like no blade ever could. He reminded himself again that this was his only means of escape. He had no way of getting out on his own and time was running out. He was useless to Hyrule if he was dead or worse.

Zelda would understand, he promised himself.

“But not enough.” He let the young hero pull back, watching with interest as the boy searched his sleepless mind for answers beyond his years, “You’re dying, that makes you desperate;” he explained, “willing to swallow your pride.” He creased his cheek, running his thumb along the soft curve before withdrawing his hand completely, “But I’ve known you longer then you’ve known daylight. You’re tenacious, unwilling to laydown and accept defeat when you’ve been bested.” Link watched as daft fingers loosened the braded cord of his trousers, the visible bulge increasing as layers were pushed away. “You have accepted my offer, now show your _master_ how grateful you are for this kindness.”

He couldn’t. Not here, not in front of those _things_. It had been a battle with his pride to submit as he had, he’d done it to survive, he’d done it for Hyrule. But there was a stark difference between nuzzling Ganon’s palm and riding him in the depths of this dungeon surrounded by once Hylian monsters.

His heart sank, and then there was still the very real possibility that Ganon would leave him to die once he’d taken what he wants, once he’d…filled him.

He shuddered, shifting his legs together and hardened his stare. If Ganon needed “proof of his submission” he would have to pick something else. Unless he managed to escape before nightfall there would be no avoiding sex with Ganondorf, but if he was going to be left to starve in the dungeon after his humiliation it wouldn’t be after being sodomized.

A bark of laughter rang through the dungeon, amused, mocking. It startled the beasts, the meaty sound of shuffling flesh over stone sounding in the dark. Link’s petulance had amused him, “Oh no hero, when I am ready to take you, there will be no hiding yourself from me.” He griped Link’s chin and dragged him closer, forced his face to the separating laces criss-crossed over the notable bulge of his groin. “But when I take you, you will be clean. This will suffice.”

He pulled back.

“Have it your way.” He shoved him back, pushing Link to bounce against the concrete wall, his teeth rattled, and a sharp pain bloomed in the back of his skull as it collided with brick.

He touched the growing egg on the back of his skull and grit his teeth against new pain. Nothing wet, so no blood at least. He looked back to his capture to watch the flourish of his cape as he turned, leaving.

His one and only chance walking out the door.

He lunged, throwing himself forward as far the chains still holding him would allow and grabbed for the heavy cape. He missed, fingers sliding against thick fabric as it passed through is fingertips.

It was enough, the shadow of a tug on the tail of his cape bringing his steps to a pause at the door of the iron cell. “I’m not here to play, boy.” Amber eyes glinted in the firelight, face cast in shadow he was so familiar with, so comfortable consumed by, as he peered down at the wasted hero from over his shoulder. “Submit or die, I’ve no interest in games of token acts of resistance.”

Rocks dug into his flesh where he lay sprawled over the packed dirt floor staring up in desperation at his enemy. He needed this. He would not survive. Stretching, his fingers hooked in the sturdy fabric of the Kings cape and he tugged again, lips drawn in a hard line of resolve.

The gerudo returned, giving Link a moment to shuffle back to his knees before stepping to stop once more mere inches away. “If you desire to warm my bed, boy, earn it.”

Earn his bed. _Earn his bed._ Link wasn’t being forced to do anything. He was being made to _ask for it_.

Hylia, how he was going to kill him. When this was all over, when he once again held the comfortable weight of the Master Sword in his hand and the Hylian shield on his arm, Link was going to pay back this growing debt ten-fold.

However, until then, Link swallowed his pride and brought shaking bloodied fingers to the front of Ganon’s pants. Once strong nimble fingers moved clumsy against the thankfully loosened leather ties, swollen and cold he barely recognized them as his own in the flickering fires light. He didn’t think he would have been able to pull the cord had Ganon not so graciously loosened them for him first. He’d hate to think of the lengths he would have to go to grip the thin cords if he hadn’t. With a few quick tugs Link pulled the braded cord free, pushing the fine cotton pants out of the way to reveal the generous bulge in his small clothes. With only a moments hesitation he gripped the sides of his trousers and small clothes and pulled them down dark hips.

It was bigger than he’d expected.

More then half hard the erection stood far enough to touch Link’s cheek upon reveal, a smear of pre smearing his skin where it touched.

He swallowed, bracing himself as he would any fight with sword and shield, taking a breath of stale musty air to steady his resolve as fingers found their way into the tangled strands of his hair.

“I will not wait all day for you to find your nerve.” A voice of smoke and shadow reminded. Pail storm eyes turned up to meet amber and he could almost count that as a lie; lust boiled like a storm within Ganondorf’s eyes, desire to lay Link bare and watch him beg. But he was not a patient man and Link would not test his luck twice.

He wrapped his fingers around the sizely cock, he would be lying if he said he knew what he was doing. Apart from the few stolen moments he’d taken to himself on the road when he was sure there was no one around to catch him Link had no interactions with sex. His life on the road didn’t really allow for romance or pleasure.

Opening his mouth Link brought the fat cockhead to his lips and touched the bead of pre with his tongue, there was an instant response above him, a sharp intake of breath as he tasted bitter salt. It wasn’t pleasant, but he wouldn’t gag on it. A light press urged him forward and Link took more of the heavy cock into his mouth. It filled him, stretching his lips wide as it slid across his tongue to touch the back of his throat. He choked, jerking to take a little less in and drew another sound from the man above him.

He liked the way it felt, long fingers stretching through his hair and urging Link to do it again, bring his face a little closer, let the fat cock head press against the back of his throat and squirm. One hand braced on the larger man’s hips and the other wrapped firmly around the rest of the length he couldn’t fit into his mouth Link complied, stretching his mouth and opening his throat to try and fit more of the twitching cock into him, stroking the rest with inexperienced hands.

It felt bigger in his mouth, making jaw ache around its girth.

“Suck.”

Link looked up through lashes and bangs to the man commanding him and froze. Amber eyes blown wide and lips parted in lust he watched Link swallow him down as though was nothing else in the world, presence of paramount replaced with a hunger Link has never known before.

Heart pounding, he closed his eyes and tried to erase the look of burning lust from his mind. He could feel it now, the heat of his stair as he took in the image at his feet. Link on his knees, hand wrapped around the base of his cock slowly working it, mouth stretched wide around cock…it would be a sight to behold, a moment of victory he would burn into his memory for all time.

Fingers splayed along the back of his skill, beckoning, wanting, fighting the urge to drive his length down Link’s willing throat.

_Suck_. The word played through his mind and this time he could hear the salacious tone in his smoky voice, see the lewd hunger in his eyes, the need for more. More contact, more pressure. Link slid his tongue along the salty underside, teased the exposed length with clumsy fingers and hollowed his cheeks.

The moan that rumbled sent a shiver up his spin that made cock twitch.

He bobbed his head, alternating pressure of mouth and hand and tried to breath between the deep throating thrusts, taking more as he learned to open his throat, found a rhythm, sucked and swallowed and chocked.

He didn’t force himself further, didn’t thrust when Link found the right pressure with his tongue along the head and thought to tease his balls, he held himself in complete control with only the rare sound of pleasure rumbling through his chest when Link did something he especially liked.

The rush of cum over his tongue came without warning, his bitter end splashing the back of his throat as he sucked. He gaged, choking on the unexpected rush of fluid. The hand that had held him so gently suddenly gripped him tight. He looked up to his captor, meeting amber eyes once more, “swallow.”

He stared at him; the weight of his softening cock still heavy in his mouth even as the grip on his loosened. The choice was his. Spit or swallow. Accept a place warming Ganon’s bed or…

He listened again to the soft sounds of shuffling in the dark, thought again of what those creatures use to be, how hungry he had become.

Closing his eyes he swallowed.

The sound of manacles unlocking could not have been more confining. 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, your comments have been very encouraging these past few...months...really am sorry about that. I hope to start doing a little more writing a little more frequently, but no promises can be made. As you’ve read, my life is a bit of a hot mess.  
> Again, thank you to everyone who’s left me comments and kudos thus far, it means the world to me. <3  
> Your kudos are side characters to flag down for help, your comments are petting Link’s hair while rooting for Ganon.  
> The author is snotting and sniffling in a corner because summer head colds are shit.
> 
> Ganon’s POV
> 
> He isn’t good at it. The hero’s movements jerked and sloppy, the suction too light as he fights to breath around his dick, unable to find a rhythm in his movements. But he looks debased with pink lips stretched around Ganon’s cock, head bobbing to take in as much of his length as he can, and it may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
> 
> He feels the hero’s tongue rub against the bottom of his shaft with every shuddering gasp for breath and leans into him with one shallow trust, holding him still as he spills his seed down Hylia’s champion’s throat.
> 
> No, he isn’t good at this, but he will be. He will learn; and learn to enjoy it.
> 
> One day he will beg for Ganon’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Setting up the story a little bit here. Hope no ones disappointed. 
> 
> Your kudos are telling the innkeeper to run, your comments try to steer Link in another direction.


End file.
